Please, Velma
by apikale-wahine
Summary: A routine appointment leaves Velma and Shaggy with one of the hardest decisions they have ever had to make and one of the hardest battles they have ever had to face. No relation to my other stories. I appreciate reviews.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Scooby-Doo. If I did, you would be watching this on Boomerang... for about eight seconds before changing the channel to CNN.**

**A/N: I am not giving up on History Inc. I am, however, taking a break. Frankly, historical fiction takes more time and effort to write and lately I've been really busy. I need a story I can write more easily. But I will come back to HI... later.**

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Chapter 1:

"Thanks for the ride, guys..." Velma told her friends as she climbed into the Mystery Machine, which waited for her in the parking lot of the clinic.

"No problem, Velma," Fred told her. He was used to giving her rides now; all of Mystery Inc. was at this point. Velma didn't have her own car; between the typical costs of attending college and her insurance having gone up as of late she simply couldn't afford one. Not that the gang minded.

Velma took her place next to Daphne and buckled her seatbelt. She stared out the window. It was getting dark; a faint trace of her reflection appeared upon the glass. She practiced smiling until her face was convincing. The gang had plans for the rest of the evening; everything else could wait.

"So, like, Velma... you still feel like bowling with the rest of us?" Shaggy inquired from the back seat. He didn't want to elaborate any further as to what he was really asking. It made him feel kind of uncomfortable in the most un-macho way. Yet the entire gang knew that it was a legitimate question; sometimes these "appointments" drained every last drop of energy from their friend, to the point where she fell asleep the moment she reached the van. Although that hadn't been nearly so common recently as it had been four years ago...

"Yeah, I'm still up to it..." Velma answered back.

_Four years. _Shaggy and Velma (and likely Fred, Daphne, and Scooby) had been thinking the same thing. The difference was that Velma understood the time frame's irony, while her friends probably still felt the reason to celebrate. _Four years... _One more and she would have been home free. One more.

And then this had to come up.

_I'll tell them tomorrow, _Velma told herself. _Tonight let's just have fun, like we planned. Maybe we'll even solve another mystery... one last mystery..._

"We're here." Fred's voice jerked his friend back to the present. She climbed out of the van, followed by Daphne, and walked across the parking lot to the bowling alley's entrance.

"You want anything from the snack bar?" Fred asked his friends. Velma was the only one to shake her head. This was another of the gang's unspokens. The mere smell of popcorn and hotdogs wafting towards her nose was enough to make Velma want to vomit. That too was pretty much the norm by now.

The night from there on out went pretty much normally and uneventfully. _Normal_. The thing Velma had been striving for for so long. Or something near normal-- atypical as it might have been, she wouldn't give up being a genius detective with a talking dog any day. But normal for Velma.

Now normal was once again slipping from her grasp.

Velma was still struggling to push the glumness from her head when she felt Daphne's hand on her shoulder.

"Come on," her friend told her cheerfully, oblivious to what was going on behind Velma's coke-bottle glasses.

"Like, where are you girls going?" Shaggy asked curiously.

"Ladies' room," Daphne responded.

Fred groaned. The ladies' room, or "conference room" as Scooby, Shaggy, and Fred referred to it, was a land of deepest mystery. Seriously, the boys always kind of wondered if their friends only retreated into the restroom to talk about them. Why else did women always leave in pairs?

Daphne jumped ahead and pulled the door open. Last time they had been here the door had stuck shut and when Velma finally got it open it slammed into her knee. The bruise still hadn't gone away. Actually, that had been one of the initial concerns to begin with...

"So Velma, I was wondering if you by any chance had a--" Daphne began, rooting through Velma's purse in that way only sisters and best friends can get away with. She found the item she was looking for-- a hairbrush-- and began brushing as she stared into the mirror. Daphne found her voice drifting off, however, when she noted Velma's face. It is easy to fake it with a large group of people, but it is very hard to lie and say everything is fine when one is alone with one's best friend.

"Velma?" Daphne asked.

A tear trickled down Velma's cheek.

"Velma? What's wrong?"

Velma's answer came in a whisper.

"It's back."

The moment after she said it, only two sounds could be heard resonating throughout the bathroom: the clatter as Daphne's shock had triggered her hand to release the hairbrush so it fell into the sink, and the anguish of the girls' tears as both of them wept.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Daphne hadn't believed it the second it fell on her ears.

"Back."

Could anyone think of a scarier word?

Daphne was used to bad stuff happening to herself-- "danger-prone" and everything. But she was accustomed to a very different type of danger. "Danger" as she knew it simply meant being tied up for a few hours until her friends found her. It was sort of fun, even, in a roller-coasters-and-ghost-stories kind of way.

But "danger" as it happened to Velma was not fun. It was not adventurous. It was not a quest, from which she could emerge as a hero and meet her friends at the Malt Shop. This was not the kind of danger that fought you tooth-and-nail. This was the kind of danger that attacked you from within, weakening you at every moment.

Danger-prone though she was, Daphne hated the thought of being weak. So did Velma.

Finally Daphne worked up the courage to speak.

"Velma? Are... are they positive it's really back?"

Velma nodded solemnly. Her glasses were fogged from her tears landing on the lenses. Somehow, for the first time, Velma seemed not to even care about her inability to see.

"They want me to go in tomorrow. To discuss treatment."

Daphne shuddered. She remembered last time of what "treatment" referred to. True, it referred to the healing of her friend. It should have made her happy.

But there was more to it.

Treatment referred to several weeks of hospitalization. Treatment referred to Velma having to miss school, one of her favorite things next to solving mysteries. Treatment referred to the chemo causing Velma's hair to fall out. Treatment referred to Velma getting sicker, all in the name of helping her get better, as her friends could do nothing except visit and watch.

Now would they have to go through that... again?

"I... I really hoped that last time wouldn't have to happen again." Daphne knew it sounded lame. The truth was, after four years, she had practically forgotten it existed. Or maybe she hadn't forgotten. Maybe she was just basking in the fact that everyone could pretend it really didn't.

Velma breathed and fell back against the green-tiled wall. She sat down, and Daphne kneeled next to her.

"Daphne... it's not going to be like last time."

"I... I'm sorry?" Daphne didn't like the sound of what Velma had said.

Velma picked a fuzzball and dropped it on the floor next to her. "Daphne... even with the best treatments, my best bet at survival is 25 percent with standard chemotherapy."

_Survival. _How Velma could discuss that about anyone-- let alone herself-- in mere percentage-wise statistics, no less-- was astounding. Daphne ignored the figure. She didn't like to think about "25 percent."

"So... you're not going to even try to cure it?" Daphne felt naive, somehow. This was not happening.

Velma looked back. "I am." It was a small relief, although Daphne wasn't sure if she could have handled any other answer.

"So what--?"

"My oncologist wants me to try something different. Something that would probably work better than more chemo, at least..."

"What is that?"

"A bone-marrow transplant."

Daphne looked at her friend blankly, pretending to understand. Velma knew she didn't, but she also knew that Daphne probably didn't want the technical details.

"So _then _you'll get better?" Daphne asked hopefully, practically begging her friend, even though she knew Velma couldn't guarantee anything either way.

Velma looked away. "It's... possible."

"Possible?"

"Daphne, it's not that simple... I don't know if I even want this yet."

"But you have to!" Daphne almost shouted. It was a miracle nobody else heard, even though the bathroom was empty except for the two girls. Velma shrank back.

"I... I'm sorry, Velma," Daphne told her, recollecting herself. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just... I want you to live. Please, Velma..."

Velma blinked and sighed. "Daphne, there is no miracle cure for leukemia. Or any other cancer. I'm no exception."

"But you said--"

"I know, Daphne." Tracing her finger along the little cracks in between the tiles, Velma continued. She started crying again, slightly. "But you realize that if everything works-- if they find a donor and perform the operation on time and don't make any mistakes-- even under the best conditions, my odds--"

Here again she quoted another cold, desolate statistic.

"My odds are about fifty-fifty."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Velma slept. Not because she was tired (although that condition was present) but because it was easier than thinking about everything else.

Daphne did not sleep. How could she? It was only six-thirty. The gang was still at the bowling alley.

Velma did not want to have to break the news to another soul. Daphne had offered and Velma had accepted.

Now Daphne wondered why exactly she had offered. How did you tell this to the gang? Did you just lay it out? Did you pull everyone aside and talk to them separately? Did you tell only one person and tell him to pass it on?

"Raphne?" Scooby was getting a little impatient. Daphne was spending just a little too long trying to adjust her aim, especially for someone who kept missing. Daphne couldn't help it; she was distracted.

After yet another miss-- with the guardrails up, no less-- Daphne turned to the Great Dane behind her.

She gave him a hug and scratched him behind the ear.

"Raaawww..."

Then the dog noted that his friend was crying.

"Scooby?" Daphne whispered. "Do you think you could ever be a therapy dog?"

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Telling a dog, even a talking dog, truly was not difficult. Daphne had apparently chickened out and given the easiest delivery of information first.

She had no choice, however, when it came to Shaggy.

"Daphne?" Shaggy asked, glancing over at the table where Velma lay her head with her arms sprawled out in front of her. "Daphne... like should we take Velma home?"

Daphne shook her head and sighed. "Shaggy... Velma doesn't want to go home yet."

Shaggy blinked. Daphne continued.

"Velma... is savoring her last night out with us."

"Wh--what do you mean?"

"I mean," Daphne started to tell him, but found she couldn't look him in the eye at that point.

"I mean her cancer's back."

Daphne hadn't known how Shaggy would react. Guys didn't just start crying out in public like Daphne was now. A guy also couldn't hug a girl who was dating someone else, even if they were friends. Fred probably would have made an exception, but neither Shaggy nor Daphne would have felt right.

All Shaggy did was stare, speechless. He swallowed, then stuttered.

"I... uh..." He swallowed again. "Oh."

He strode off. Daphne didn't know how to interpret that.

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She really procrastinated with Fred, which made her feel like a traitor on three accounts. One, he was the gang's leader, and deserved to know before anyone else (except of course Velma). Two, he was her boyfriend-- she should confide everything in him. Three, everyone else who knew sat in stunned, speechless silence as Fred drove everybody home, and Daphne felt awful that she did not reveal why everyone was so quiet as Fred had to endure the mysterious, forboding frost that was the passenger seats of the Mystery Machine.

Shortly after Fred released Shaggy and Scooby, he dropped Velma off at her apartment. She turned around.

"Freddie?" she asked uneasily. "I need a ride to the clinic tomorrow morning."

_Please don't ask why, _Daphne telepathically willed. _Please don't ask why, please don't ask--_

Fred did not ask. He simply closed his eyes and nodded.

"So I'll pick you up at--"

"Nine-thirty." Velma nibbled a hangnail.

Fred gave a strained smile and said, "Okay... see you then."

Now only Daphne and Freddie remained.

"Freddie..." Daphne started.

"It's okay, Daph... I know, or I can guess..."

Daphne looked over at him.

"She's sick again, isn't she?"

Daphne nodded. "Freddie, I--"

"It's okay," Fred told her.

"No, it's not, it--"

"Okay, you're right, it's not," Fred amended. "But I meant... it's okay if you don't feel like talking..."

"I feel like talking," Daphne admitted. "I just don't know what to say."

"Daphne... this has to be hard on you..." Fred wiped his eye, and Daphne wasn't sure if he just had something in it or if he was trying to disguise a tear. He continued. "It's hard on me... and I'm not even her best friend. But I do know she's an important part of our team. She's the one who really always motivated the rest of us to solve the mystery, and who made us feel like no matter how small a clue was... we were important..."

"Fred... stop talking like she's dead!" Daphne didn't know where that outburst came from; all she knew was that "remembering" Velma in such a sentimental way made her want to throw up. Velma was not going to die; why did they have to speak in eulogies?

"Daphne, I'm not talking like she's dead. Furthermore, she's not going to be," Fred said optimistically, but not cheerfully. "But you do realize she's going to be back in the hospital for... for a while. We can't give up mysteries just because Velma isn't with us. Crime won't hit pause just because a crime-solver is sick."

Daphne frowned and put her forehead in her hands. Fred was right; that was what bothered her.

Finally, the Mystery Machine pulled up in front of Daphne's house. Fred opened the door for Daphne and walked her up to the front step. He kissed her.

"Daphne, it's okay to be afraid."

"But I'm not even the one who's sick!"

Fred continued to hold her and stroked her hair.

"Daphne," he repeated, "It's okay to be afraid."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Velma was normally a morning person, but it is always hard to get up when one dreads the day before one. Ironically, the thing she was dreading was one of the most important appointments of her life... regarding her life.

She put on her coat just as Fred rang the doorbell.

"Ready?" he asked. Velma nodded.

"Yeah..."

She followed her friend out to the familiar old van. Fred opened the door for her and she climbed in.

Shaggy, Scooby, and Daphne were all inside, looking solemn... but also natural. As if they had taken it as a matter of course that they would accompany her toward her fear.

Then she realized they had.

Smiling for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, Velma realized something vital: Her friends had not simply gotten the idea to come with her. Rather, it had not occurred to them that they couldn't. She turned around, offering them her first genuine smile since they had picked her up last night.

"Thanks for coming, guys..."

"Like, no problem..." Shaggy, who had brought a packet of Pop-Tarts and a juice box (Velma's theory was that with Shaggy's sleep schedule he had to take his breakfast on the road) smiled back. So did Scooby and Daphne. Fred was concentrating on driving, but Velma saw the corner of his mouth tilt upward as well.

"Oh, Velma..." Daphne reached into her purse. "This is going to sound crazy, but I never got your hairbrush back to you!"

Velma stared at her blankly, then her eyes lit up. She took the brush and stifled a giggle.

"Jinkies..." Everyone laughed.

"When, exactly, was it that you made that up, Velma?" Daphne said, reminiscing.

Realizing that she had uttered a word she had probably forgotten about since high school, Velma grinned. "I think it was in sixth grade... I honestly don't know..."

"I think it happened after the mini-golf incident..." Shaggy suggested.

The tension in the air lessened. By the time they reached the clinic, it had almost become like a normal mystery.

Almost.

Except when Fred pulled into the parking slot, it was as if everyone felt a cold memory slither down their spines once more. They were back. Back, at the place they never wanted to see again.

Velma climbed out of the van.

Her friends watched her go, not breathing. The chill had returned. Velma had insisted a long time ago that her friends not actually follow her into the building during appointments; this late in the game that was no longer questioned. But this wasn't a routine appointment.

"Velma?" Daphne called. Velma turned around.

"I'm coming with you." She jumped down. The boys quickly followed.

"Guys..." Velma gave a fake giggle, to ease the tension. "You guys don't have to... really, you'll be stuck in the waiting room for hours..."

"I know we don't have to. We want to. Is that okay?"

Velma thought for a minute. The part of her that had secretly always longed for her to beg them, to ask her friends to not leave her alone, seemed to now scream that she had every legitimate reason to accept.

"I-- all right..."

"If it makes you uncomfortable..." Fred began, a little nervous at Daphne's persistence.

"It doesn't," Velma assured him.

She led them into the clinic, feeling secure, satisfied that she had just told someone the straight truth.

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Mystery Inc. waited. They pretended to be terribly interested in the magazines on the tables, although anyone who was watching them would have noted that their eyes weren't moving across the pages. Instead, they seemed to be staring straight through the sheets of glossy paper, right at the door through which Velma would emerge shortly.

_Really,_Daphne wondered vaguely, _she seemed in favor of the transplant... how long can it take to tell her doctor?_

Velma stepped outside, an impossible-to-read expression on her face. Daphne jumped up.

"So... the transplant..." She felt really stupid asking. It wasn't even a sentence, just an idea that was present in every sentence she could have composed at that very instant.

"They're not doing it."

"I... what?"

"They will start more chemo treatments, if they can do me any good. And they'll start them... today. But the reason we're not doing a bone marrow transplant is... they can't."

As the gang surrounded her, she told them why.

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Velma had entered the office just a tiny bit hopeful. It was a denying sort of hope, she had to admit. The kind of hope that comes when hoping is easier than believing hope doesn't exist.

The doctor's expression now, however, suggested something else.

"Miss Dinkley?" Dr. Georgis had begun, slightly nervously.

Velma looked back, obviously listening, but didn't say anything. There wasn't anything she could say. He knew more about her disease than she did, despite her having devoured every book in the library on the topic.

Dr. Georgis breathed. "Miss Dinkley, I'm afraid I have misinformed you."

For one wild, fleeting moment, an irrationally optimistic section of Velma's brain interpreted that in a good way. Maybe there was a misdiagnosis. Maybe she wasn't having a relapse. Maybe...

His continuation snapped her back to reality. "I shouldn't have mentioned the option of a bone marrow transplant. In your case, we can't."

"Why not?"

Dr. Georgis sat down next to her. "Miss Dinkley, to give an effective transplant, your type must match that of the donor." Velma nodded. This was pretty basic stuff.

"Otherwise, your body could reject the marrow... or you could develop graft-versus-host disease." Velma nodded again.

"And your type is... well... rare."

Velma almost laughed. "Is that all? I mean, there's still some time... you could look around... have you checked my family yet?"

Dr. Georgis' pitying stare gave Velma the answer. "We have."

The doctor continued. "Miss Dinkley, I'm not just talking about something that is 'routinely uncommon.' I'm talking about having made a scientific discovery."

Velma felt sickeningly like a lab rat. "You don't mean--"

"This appears to be a mutation. To be honest, given your parents' types, which are standard and average, there appears to be little else it could be. How this mutation came about, I don't know, but--"

"But what about my treatment!" Velma protested, horrified.

He paused. "If you wish, we can try a different combination of chemo drugs and radiation and hope for the best. Otherwise, I'm afraid there's not much we can do."

Her fate was sealed. Velma had no choice. Perhaps she could still live. Perhaps she would go into remission and never relapse again. It wasn't impossible...

Twenty-five percent.

Velma latched onto that one-in-four hope, onto the possibility that there_was_hope, and prayed.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

There was a knock on Fred's door. Fred got off the couch and answered it. He, like the rest of Mystery Inc., had been so stressed over the last couple days' events that he didn't even worry about how messy the room was, or that he hadn't showered lately. It didn't matter anyhow, since the visitor was Shaggy, who looked every bit as disheveled as his friend.

"Like, hi, Fred..." Shaggy greeted him. "Like, where's Daphne?" Knowing his friends better than they knew, it was a logical conclusion that Daphne would probably have been at Fred's.

"Visiting Velma," Fred answered, shrugging and trying to look like he hadn't really been thinking about it. He had asked Daphne if he could join her, but Daphne had declined, explaining that she and her friend needed independent "girl time." He felt a sort of morbid pang, a whisper of how the gang used to work: Usually they went out in a group, but it was perfectly normal for Velma and Daphne to have their "girls' nights out." Neither Velma nor Daphne was willing to allow Velma's hospitalization to take that away.

"So where's Scooby?" Fred asked, trying to change the subject.

"Like, he didn't feel like coming... seeing as he doesn't have opposable thumbs or anything." Fred stared at Shaggy, confused until Shaggy held up a video game and motioned toward the PlayCube Wii60 attached to Fred's television set. Video games. The boys' private escape when the girls weren't around.

Fred popped the disc into the machine. He was grateful Shaggy had brought the game over. Games had for years been their way of distracting themselves from the stresses of exams, relationships, and mysteries. They both needed a distraction right now, more than any other time.

Except now it didn't really work. The game proved to be just distracting enough to diminish any possibility of saying how they really felt, but not distracting enough to diminish the need to.

Shaggy furiously moved the joystick, scoring point after point at Freddie's expense. As Fred's frustration made him apathetic, Shaggy's made him aggresive, so after five minutes Shaggy's score was eight times that of Fred's. Neither boy cared.

Finally, after the huge red lettering flashed "GAME OVER" at the top of the screen, Shaggy tossed his controller down and stared out into space.

"Er... Shaggy? Are you okay?" Fred asked.

Shaggy paused, then shook his head.

Fred got up for a second and came back with a box of Scooby Snacks. He offered it to Shaggy, who disturbingly declined.

"Shaggy... I know you're upset... we all are..." Fred knew it sounded really lame and cliche, but he also knew that the loss of one team member meant he would have to do his best looking out for the rest.

Finally, Shaggy spoke.

"Like, Fred... it's not that I'm upset..."

"You mean you're not?"

"No! Of course I am... but there's... there's something else... that's bothering me..."

Fred sat down and cautiously turned to his friend. "What is it?"

"Like... I don't know..."

"Then how--?"

Shaggy sighed. "I mean, I do know... just... not... everything." He looked Freddie straight in the eye. "I think there's something else, something I'm not doing... that I could be doing."

"Like what?"

"Helping Velma?" That really was what this felt like, but Shaggy knew it didn't make any sense.

"Shaggy... it's normal to feel a sense of helplessness. And it's just as normal to deny that feeling, to try to do whatever is in your power to fix everything." He blinked.

"But Shaggy, sometimes there's really nothing we can do. Don't feel guilty... it's not your fault."

Shaggy wasn't really listening. He knew what Fred was saying, but he had the strangest feeling that what Fred was saying wasn't entirely true. That there was something neither he nor Fred knew that would change everything.

Fred continued, oblivious to the fact that something completely unrelated floated through Shaggy's head. It was understandable-- Fred was going through some of the same agony Shaggy was, and his words were as much to comfort himself as they were to comfort Shaggy. But that didn't change the fact that they weren't true.

"--there is no available donor, and it's unlikely there will be one. We just have to hope--"

_There is no available donor, and it's unlikely there will be one. There is no available donor, and it's unlikely there _will_ be one..._ Odd...

Shaggy excitedly straightened up, alarming Fred slightly.

Something in his intuition had just located the falsehood.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

"Miss Dinkley?"

Velma stirred as she heard Nurse Hawthorne address her. She wasn't asleep, just very, very deep in thought.

"Miss Dinkley, you have a visitor..."

"Daphne left already..." Velma answered, not really processing what the nurse had said.

"It's not Daphne!"

Velma turned her head at the sound of Shaggy's voice.

"Shaggy?"

"Like... hi..."

Velma blinked. Shaggy had never visited her by himself before-- not the first time she was sick, and not this time. Daphne obviously came over as often as she could, and occasionally Fred, being the perfect team leader that he was, would drop in. Scooby's absences were understandable-- Mystery Inc. loathed the hospital's "no dogs" policy by this point. Shaggy only came when the rest of Mystery Inc. was coming, which was fine-- group visits were frequent and Velma understood that Shaggy hated doing anything alone.

But now, out of the blue, Shaggy (Norville) Rogers was visiting her.

"Jinkies..." she muttered.

Shaggy laughed, nervously. "Like... I just wanted to talk to you... before Dr. Georgis got the chance..."

"Why?" What was Shaggy talking about?

"I dunno... I just thought it would be better if you heard it from me..."

"Heard what from you?"

Shaggy paused, then pronounced firmly, "Velma." He sat down at the foot of her bed.

"Velma... they found you a donor..."

The news lifted her heart immediately. There was hope, all was not lost...

"Who is it?"

Shaggy looked embarrassed, but he was still smiling.

"Me."

He then proceeded to fill in the details.

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"May I help you?"

The secretary that very morning had been dolled up to the extreme-- too much makeup, too much blonde hair dye, too much nail polish. Not that Shaggy was paying much attention.

"I need to see Dr. Georgis..." Shaggy felt awkward in the waiting room. He really didn't like clinics or hospitals very much.

The secretary sighed. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No... this isn't about me, it's about one of his patients... Velma Dinkley?"

The secretary frowned and looked at him sternly. "Sir, I'm afraid a patient's medical record is strictly confidential. Dr. Georgis can't just give you free access--"

Shaggy groaned. "Listen--" He breathed in and tried to sound calmer. "Ma'am." That sounded better. "I already know about her condition; she's a friend of mine. I also know that right now they can't find a donor for her..." Shaggy was so absorbed he didn't notice anyone behind him.

"...and I have reason to believe it might be possible for me to be Velma's donor."

"And why is that?"

Shaggy whirled around, coming face-to-face with Dr. Georgis.

The secretary put on her this-man-is-bugging-me-please-get-rid-of-him look. "Doctor, this man was trying to see you, without an appointment. I told him--"

"It's all right, I was just leaving on my lunch break. I've got an hour, though," he said as he looked curiously at Shaggy, "if you would like to talk."

"Yeah, I would..." Shaggy told him, and Dr. Georgis led him to a private room in the back, to the shock and frustration of the secretary.

"May I have your name, sir?"

"Uh... Norville, Norville Rogers. But Velma calls me Shaggy. Most people do."

"Very well, then." Dr. Georgis looked at him. "Shaggy."

The doctor paced back and forth across the tile. "What exactly brings you here?"

"Doctor, I think I can be Velma's donor."

"Shaggy, donations are very complicated matters. Velma's type is extremely rare. Neither I nor the most qualified professionals in the field have ever seen it or anything like it before."

Shaggy didn't feel like another conversation like the one he had with Fred. "Listen... could you humor me? Just test me?"

Dr. Georgis sighed. "I could test you here... but it would involve taking a sample and--"

"I know, Doctor..." Shaggy gulped. He didn't look forward to the prospect of needles.

"And Mr. Rogers?" Shaggy knew by the doctor's use of his surname that this was serious. "Don't expect a miracle."

Shaggy nodded, but he did expect a miracle. He knew, somehow.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor returned from the lab, a dazed look on his face.

"Well, doc?"

"This... this is incredible!" The doctor looked ready to pass out. He leaned on the table as he came in. Then he smiled.

"Congratulations, Mr. Rogers."

Shaggy didn't even need to hear the next line.

"You are a match."

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"But how?" Velma marveled. When they hadn't even found her type amongst her relatives, how did someone like Shaggy share her marrow type?

Shaggy grinned, thinking back. "Velma... when I heard about the mutation, I couldn't help remembering that one mystery we solved... the one at the power plant in New Czechistan."

Velma thought back. Then her eyes lit up.

"Where those illegal experiments that tapped into the power supply temporarily--"

"--turned us into salamanders?" Shaggy laughed a little. Velma smiled herself.

"Actually, more like lizards, something felt distinctly reptilian about the transformation..." Then Velma shook herself.

"But Shaggy, we fixed those mutations, remember? We're human again."

"Maybe not entirely." Shaggy stood up. "Remember, while we were standing under the Correction Beam, we were in a hurry to change back so we could find Daphne and Fred, right?"

"Yeah..."

"We left as soon as we looked like our old selves. As soon as we _looked _like ourselves. But Velma, what if something changed on the inside that never changed back? That would explain your mutation, wouldn't it? And if so, it would make sense that I would have the same mutation..."

Velma nodded. Here was Shaggy, the slacker of the gang, filling in for Velma: He was explaining the exact details of a mystery, and he had solved it perfectly. Velma was proud of him.

"So you think that's why our types match?"

"Like what else could it be?" Back to Shaggy.

"You have a point." Velma yawned and leaned back against the pillow, drowsy from the chemo. "But Shaggy?" she called as he was leaving.

Shaggy stopped and turned around in the doorway. "Yeah, Velms?"

"I'm just trying to remember the mystery... I know we were looking for Fred and Daphne, since we hadn't really seen them since splitting up... but where _were _they?"

Shaggy laughed as he left. "You know... it beats me!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Yes I know I haven't updated in a while. Sorry.**

**Maybe now that the holidays are over I can get back into a routine...**

Chapter Seven:

"Thanks for coming, guys..." Velma told her friends as they crowded into her room. "It really means a lot to me..."

Fred grinned at her. "When Shaggy called us to tell us he would be your donor, I almost didn't believe it. I mean, he did mention before he thought he could, but I assumed he was just--"

"Not willing to face the facts?" Shaggy finished, looking slightly triumphant. Fred nodded slightly, embarrassed.

Velma smiled. "I'm glad he couldn't. They weren't 'facts' anyway." Then her expression changed a bit, to a more serious one. "I'm also glad you could all make it here. You know, it won't be long now before they move me to isolation and I can't have visitors."

The rest of the gang fell silent. Then Daphne stepped forward with a package.

"This is for you," she told her friend. "From all of us." In reality, Daphne had actually purchased the gift, but sentimentally it was from the whole gang and Velma understood that.

Curious, Velma pulled off the lavender paper from the rather-heavy (for its size) package. Inside there was a laptop.

"This hospital has wi-fi. I checked," Daphne told her, holding up her Blackberry. "So you can still email the rest of us, when you feel up to it."

"Aw... thanks!" Velma beamed. "And I will, I promise! Then when I'm out of here..." Suddenly, Velma felt an odd lurch in the pit of her stomach. _When I'm out of here... _She had said that so confidantly, so certainly that it was true. But the reality was that her odds were still no better than fifty percent, and from the looks the rest of the gang tossed across to each other she could tell the same thing had crossed everyone else's mind. Should she ignore it, or confront it?

She thought about Shaggy, and the bold move he had made. Maybe a part of him was worried that if he was wrong, he would look like an idiot. But how might things have been if he had allowed that fear to keep him from being tested? How might things have been if he refused to ponder the possibility that he was right?

Velma confronted it.

"Guys... I really am going to get out of here. I am, I know it. I'm not... I'm not going to die. I won't."

Fred paused a moment. Velma couldn't actually be certain about survival at all, and he knew she knew it. But maybe one wasn't supposed to talk a friend out of it when they convinced themselves that things would work out. After all, Fred had been wrong with Shaggy.

"No," he finally agreed. "You won't."

The gang stayed with Velma for a couple more hours, truly doing nothing in particular-- they chatted, looked through old photographs, reminisced about the mysteries they solved, laughed-- basically all the normal, plain, everyday stuff.

Those were the best two hours of Velma's life.

Finally, looking at the clock, Velma commented, "Jinkies... it's awfully late, if you wanted to go home soon. I bet you're all hungry; I--"

"Nah, we're fine." The gang was shocked to hear those words coming from none other than Shaggy. "We'll stay a while longer."

Fred looked at Daphne, then spoke. "I'll go down to the hospital food court and pick up something for dinner."

Taking her cue, Daphne added, "And I'll go with him." Linking arms with her boyfriend, she stepped out of the room, her heels clicking loudly against the gray-and-white-streaked tile. Velma giggled as they went.

"So cute," she commented.

-------------------------------------------------

Out in the hallway, Daphne cast a worried look at Fred. Fred answered before she even asked any questions.

"She will be okay, Daphne."

"Fred, even the doctors have no idea at this point. I just--"

"Daphne." Fred spoke firmly. "Velma just told me that she would survive. And I believe her. If she tells me something, I believe her, no matter what. I trust my team."

"Fred, it's not like she would intentionally lie to you or anything. But if she doesn't know, how can she expect you to believe it too?"

Fred stopped in his tracks and turned to face his girlfriend. For a second, it seemed like he honestly had no answer to that question. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then, all of a sudden, a flash of extraordinary insight ignited behind the deep eyes into which Daphne stared.

"Daphne... does someone have to feel certain to know that they are speaking the truth?"

"Of course they do!"

"Daphne... think back. Think back to Christmas Eve."

Daphne didn't need to think hard at all to remember. The whole scene played back for her immediately. It was not last Christmas Eve, nor the year before, but it was _the _Christmas Eve that mattered more to Fred and Daphne than any other occasion had.

-------------------------------------------------

_"Good dip, Mrs. Jones," Daphne told her childhood friend's mother, who beamed._

_"Why thank you, Daphne." Daphne had not really even paid much attention to the words. Every Christmas Eve party was the same, and had been for years. The Blakes, Dinkleys, Rogerses, and a few other families all congregated at the Jones residence. Daphne would comment on Mrs. Jones's blue cheese carrot dip. At age seven, when she first started coming to this party, she had been obsessed with blue cheese and took great delight in this recipe. Now she just ate it out of habit. Virtually every "traditional" gathering was a habit. After sampling the dip yet again, Daphne and Velma would wander to a staircase across the room and sit, holding their red plastic cups filled with eggnog, chattering about whatever their latest phase was-- princesses at age seven, horses at age nine, pop music at age twelve, boys at age fifteen, cars at sixteen, college at seventeen, etc._

_And Daphne would stare across the room. She couldn't help it; even if she was entirely immersed in the conversation, her eyes wandered on their own. They wandered to the doorway, where Fred would be bustling in and out of the room as his mother put him to work serving the food. They wandered _above _the doorway, where, as always, there was a sprig of mistletoe carefreely swinging in the air currents generated by so much movement in the crowd. Nobody ever actually kissed under it, except for a few grown-ups who had consumed a couple too many sips of champagne. Still, the thoughts were generated. One thought in particular._

_Every time she went to this party, Daphne couldn't help wondering. She wondered about it on plenty other occasions, but now was when it really blossomed inside her. It ate away at her thoughts. She knew what this really was, but the black curtain of uncertainty veiled her ability to recognize it._

_Still, she had to tell him. This year, she would. Did she know how it would turn out? Was she sure of what she felt? These questions went unanswered as she stepped forward to say what she wanted to say._

_"Fred?" she whispered as he started to leave the room. Now the fear pounced on her. She didn't know what she was saying; she couldn't know for sure. But she said it anyway._

_"I love you."_

-------------------------------------------------

Daphne practically had to be awakened from the trance-like memory.

"So were you sure about that?" Fred asked.

"No... I wasn't..."

"But you were right," Fred whispered. He put his arm around Daphne. "You were right, deep down."

Daphne hugged him back. "I'm not sorry I told you about that. Not sorry at all."

"And I think," Fred told her, "that _when _Velma is better, she will not be sorry at all she told us she would be. I'm sure of it."

A kiss sealed his conclusion.

-------------------------------------------------

Back in the room, Velma and Shaggy were left alone together, unsure how to break the ice, somehow. It was like there was a huge conversation practically scripted in both of their heads, but there was no introduction, no way of expressing exactly what was meant. They made light chatter instead, talking about the weather, TV, sports, anything unimportant. It was straining, really, for two people who could talk about so much more to be restricted by themselves.

Finally, trying to sound casual, Shaggy commented, "Hey, um... Velms?"

Velma nodded, and her eyes told him to go on.

"Here," he said. He opened a drawstring bag that only just now Velma had noticed he had. He reached in.

"For you," he told her. "Get well soon..."

It was a dozen roses, stems cut shorter than conventional length (presumably to better fit in the bag), in Velma's favorite shade of orange. Velma stared at him, speechless.

"I'll get them some water," he said, looking for an excuse to turn away from allowing her to see his blushing face. He stepped into the bathroom and pulled out one of the standard, pink plastic cups ubiquitous in all hospital bathrooms. He filled it with water and set the makeshift vase on Velma's tray.

"Shaggy... thank you... that's really, really sweet..."

"It's nothing," Shaggy told her.

But in reality, for the rest of the evening the flowers shone as a warm beacon of cheer in the cold, sterile, white hospital room. Even after her friends finally said goodnight and went home, the orange roses were not "nothing"; rather they became everything in Velma's world.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

There were so many versions of the letter that Velma wanted to write; she barely even knew where to begin.

She had already emailed the rest of Mystery, Inc. The first message had gone to Daphne, naturally. Writing it was no different from what she normally sent her friend-- same old chatter and gossip and jokes they had been exchanging for over a decade. Then she composed a letter to Fred-- a basic account of the details of her treatment, she was doing fine, she hoped the mysteries were going okay without her, don't worry, etc. After that she had dropped a note to Scooby that was short, sweet, and to the point: She hoped he was being brave enough without her and that Daphne was remembering his Scooby Snacks.

Now she could no longer put off the inevitable.

It wasn't that she didn't want to email Shaggy; she simply wasn't sure what to say. Sure, she could prepare a conglomerate of what she had told everyone else; it wasn't like they would read each other's mail. But somehow it didn't feel fair to shortchange Shaggy by giving him only the same information she had sent her other friends. Besides, Shaggy was her donor. He deserved something special.

Well, maybe she could start by typing the basics.

_Dear Shaggy, _she began, _this morning they finished the transplant; now I'm basically just stuck in here until the marrow grafts. Who knows how long that will take._

_Shaggy, I know I've thanked you for this before, but I think it's really great that you're my donor. It's weird to think that a piece of you--_

Ugh. That second paragraph didn't sound right at all. While the medical side of her situation fascinated Velma, she knew that Shaggy would probably not find it so. Besides, there was something impersonal about it she couldn't put her finger on. Velma deleted the paragraph.

She tried again.

_It's not so bad here, really. I mean isolation gets kind of lonely, but right now the last thing my immune system needs is germs, so I guess I just have to bear it for now._

Velma deleted this paragraph also. It complained too much. She didn't want complaints to make the gang worry, especially not Shaggy.

This really was hard. Velma stared about the room. She had some idea about what to say, but she couldn't put it into words.

Her friendship with Shaggy was a hard one to define. Hers with Daphne was easy-- they were best friends and had been since they were little kids. Fred also wasn't difficult-- he was the leader of the pack, the friend who looked out for the others and kept everyone together (except of course when he specified that they should split up). And Scooby? How could any friendship get simpler than dog-owner, really? That form of friendship was invented millenia ago by cavemen.

But who was Shaggy?

He certainly wasn't any less of a friend than the others, that was for sure-- he was every bit as important. And he was to some extent closer to Velma, in that they usually split off together during mysteries. He was her partner, she supposed. Independable though he might seem on the surface, deep down there were certain traits she could rely on him for, traits like showing on the outside the fear everyone else felt on the inside. Traits like making Velma laugh. Traits like making everyone laugh when they were afraid. Traits like solving the mystery after everyone else had given up hope.

Velma stared at her reflection in the tiny mirror across the room-- she stared at herself. She thought about the mystery which were it not for Shaggy she might not survive. Without Shaggy, that face in the mirror would not survive.

Her eyes then drifted to the picture just next to the mirror-- the photo of the roses Shaggy had given her. She had wanted to take them into her room so bad, but there was no way to properly sterilize the flowers without killing them. Instead, Shaggy had signed a photograph and framed it, and it was then made entirely sanitary by the hospital staff. Even in a photo (which didn't do them justice) the roses were beautiful. They had something intangible about them, some sort of symbolism...

Velma smiled to herself. She knew what she would write about.

_Thank you so much for the roses. Even though I'd like to have the actual flowers with me (I hope you're taking good care of them:D ), it means a lot to me that you gave them to me and that you signed the picture. I'll still keep the photo even after I'm done here. I love the shade of orange. It reminds me of campfires and sunsets and fireworks. Basically, it reminds me of everything and everywhere but here._

_Shaggy, you've been very sweet and supportive through all of this. I guess I sort of always teased you before and took you for granted, but you're the one who saved my life. That means so much to me._

Velma re-read her email, then added a closure.

_I'll write some more later, I guess. Right now I'm feeling kind of tired..._

_--Velma_

Something seemed missing. It was a good letter, and it would have been perfectly okay to send it as it was. But Velma wanted to say something more, something that summed up exactly what she felt. What, though?

There was a word.

Velma didn't dare actually send the word-- the single word that concluded this feeling she felt.

Velma inserted the word into the last line of her email.

_--Love Velma_

Then she deleted it again and hit SEND.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

It had been another typical monotonous, isolated day. Velma woke up; Velma checked her email and responded as well as she could; Velma took whatever medications she was given (at this point she didn't really keep track of them) and waited for the imprisonment to be over.

She tried picking up the book she had been given as a get-well present from Daphne. She couldn't really concentrate on it, though. The morphine she had been given as a painkiller made her head swim. Everything felt as if it were swimming... swimming...

Velma hated this state of mind. At any other time, she could have finished the book within an hour; now she was only halfway through after four days. She hadn't really felt confined until her brain wore down like this...

Confined...

Something was wrong. Velma couldn't explain it, but she knew. Something was wrong, and she couldn't concentrate enough to think about what it was. All she knew was that something was leaving...

----------------------------------------------

"--and I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids!"

There. It was sealed. Mystery, Inc. had solved another mystery. The gang climbed back into the Mystery Machine and headed for the Malt Shop.

They were trying to get into the swing of things. They really were. It wasn't too different without Velma, right? After all, once they split up, Fred and Daphne could pretend that she had simply gone with Shaggy and Scooby, and Shaggy and Scooby could do the same with Fred and Daphne. She usually went with Shaggy and Scooby, sure... but not always. Sometimes they went by themselves...

Nobody was fooled. As they had been since Velma's return to the hospital, this mystery was unbearably silent. Shaggy and Scooby occupied themselves in the back with whatever comestibles happened to be lying around. Daphne felt the empty space next to her in the front and wept, but allowing nobody to see her tears. Fred was not fooled; what he longed to do more than anything was to put his arm around Daphne and release his own crying. Alas, he had to keep his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road. Pain was always hardest on the driver, who must carry on regardless of the hurt inside.

----------------------------------------------

Velma felt odd. A frightening tightness gripped her chest.

She could breathe... no, she couldn't...

She could but it was hard. She could but it was getting harder. Harder every second...

What was wrong?

She racked her brain for ideas, but the lack of oxygen made that nearly impossible... things were growing darker...

Someone in white entered the room. Someone in white called for help. Someone in white attached her to some sort of machine... someone in white...

Then something went black.

----------------------------------------------

Fred's cell phone rang.

He pulled over to the side of the road and answered it. Daphne looked over at him, her red face perking with curiosity. Even Shaggy and Scooby stopped chewing for a second to listen in. Fred's phone rarely rang while they were solving mysteries; in fact whenever it rang at all it was virtually always someone else from the gang. It must be Velma; besides her and Fred's parents (who never bothered to try his cell if he wasn't home), the only people with his number were the hospital staff... Everyone refused to consider this possibility.

Finally, the blonde teenager hung up and continued driving, not saying a word.

He didn't go to the Malt Shop.

The gang knew immediately when he turned right instead of left. There was only one thing to the right at that intersection. It wasn't until they were all standing in the hospital parking lot that Fred stated the obvious, the painfully obvious...

"It's Velma," he said, jogging across the desolate plane of asphalt, Daphne at his side struggling to keep up.

"They're losing her."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

"May I help you?" the receptionist asked in a manner that most people would describe as calm; to Mystery, Inc. she appeared inhumanly bored.

"We'd like to see Velma," Fred told her.

"If you mean Miss Dinkley," the receptionist replied, in that same monotonous voice, "she's been in isolation since--"

"We know that!" Fred tried tremendously to keep his temper under control. "And we know it's a risk. But we'd also like to see her before--" He stopped as if he had been interrupted, even though he had not been at all. The receptionist simply stared at him with her cold blue eyes.

"--before--" Still icy.

Daphne stepped in. "Ma'am, we would like to see her while we still can. We just got a phone call saying she's... not doing so well." Daphne choked back tears.

"Miss, we're sorry. I am aware that you would like to visit--"

"So why shouldn't they?" Dr. Georgis came around the corner just then. _Saved by him twice,_ Shaggy thought.

"Go ahead. Technically, it's not allowed..." His voice broke off. "But sometimes, the best healing techniques do not involve making everything perfectly sanitary. Not that we should take unnecessary risks... I fully expect you to wear coats and masks. But we've found in the past that sometimes the company of friends and family is the best medicine. Her parents are already in there."

The gang gratefully followed Dr. Georgis to the supply closet where they could obtain the necessary sterile equipment. Scooby hung back; it was a miracle he hadn't been thrown out already.

"Re roo?" he questioned.

Dr. Georgis stared for a second at the canine, then nodded.

"Yes," he said, "you too."

-----------------------------------------------

Mr. and Mrs. Dinkley sat quietly by the bed, their sterile white outfits turning them into the cold, lifeless ghosts that seemed to surround the entire hospital. The couple did not cry; they simply stared, stunned, unbelieving.

As Mystery, Inc. entered the room, they heard Velma's mother sigh, dazed.

"Our only daughter," she whispered quietly. Velma's father said nothing but nodded, then put his face in his hands. Mystery, Inc. could not tell if he were masking fresh tears or if he were simply lost in thought.

"Hi..." Fred began awkwardly.

Mrs. Dinkley turned around, then drew all of Velma's friends into a hug. Now she did begin to cry.

"Thanks for coming. You kids always meant so much to her."

Everyone nodded in unison. They weren't sure what else to say. Everything felt surreal. Dr. Georgis pulled the gang aside.

Before he even spoke, Daphne asked, "Can... can she hear us?"

Dr. Georgis shifted uncomfortably, then admitted, "I have no way of knowing, I'm afraid. She's comatose."

"What happened?" Fred's voice became slightly angry. "She was doing just fine this morning... she emailed me--"

"She did appear to be okay this morning, and she was in fact recovering." Dr. Georgis paused. "Then she had a respiritory infection. She stopped breathing. She's breathing now, but the incident appears to have taken its toll. All of a sudden, she's... regressed. We take all possible measures to ensure that our isolation rooms are pathogen-free... but it's not foolproof."

Daphne looked away. "Can we talk to her?"

Dr. Georgis nodded. "In cases like hers, when the patient wakes up, she usually does remember snippets of conversation. Talking to her can't harm her... sometimes we think it might actually help. There have been few studies to back it up, but I personally believe that contact with loved ones can help increase a patient's chances of recovery." He blinked.

"And that's why you let us in here?" Fred asked.

"And that's why I let you in here," Dr. Georgis finished.

"So she will get... like... better?" Shaggy asked, inwardly pleading with the doctor to tell him what might or might not have been true.

Dr. Georgis sighed. "Only time will tell."

He turned to go.

-----------------------------------------------

"Velma?" Daphne whispered.

The room was clear of anyone except the two girls. Everyone else was out in the hall. It was decided that too much of a crowd could overwhelm Velma, so they were now seeing her one-on-one.

"Velma, I really hope you get better. Really. Because cliche as it sounds, you still have so much life left. I want you to go to get your PhD, like you wanted, and I want you to do archaeology work in that place near Dubai you told me about... remember telling me about that? How much you really wanted that job?"

This felt odd. If Velma could hear Daphne, it must be really awful not being able to respond.

"Velma, remember when we were little girls, and how much we dreamed about the future? And now we're almost there. You always imagined what kind of job you could have, what kind of life you could have. Well, now it's almost yours. Just get through this, Velma... and you'll be there! We'll all be there..." Daphne tried to speak through tears.

"And Velma? One more thing... remember how you used to tease Fred and me about... well... each other?" Daphne held up her hand even though there was no way Velma could see it.

"Velma... if you live I'd like you to come to our wedding... did you know he proposed today? You were right all along..."

"Please get better, Velma... please get better. I'm really excited about the future... but I don't want to face it without you. I don't know if I can."

She turned to give someone else a turn to talk.

"Please get better... please, Velma."

-----------------------------------------------

Fred walked in uneasily.

"Well... I guess Daphne beat me to the punch about the engagement, didn't she?"

He sat down and gave up the cheerful charade.

"I really hope you can come, Velma... because you're part of Mystery, Inc. You're part of our family, Velma."

He leaned back and thought.

"And Velma... you're an irreplaceable part of our family. You are. I know sometimes I get so excited about my ideas and I kind of push you out of the spotlight... well, I'm sorry about all that. Because you're the real genius here. Mystery, Inc. needs a genius. I guess there are others... but none that could replace you."

Fred swallowed. "Velma, I know this sounds selfish... but we really need you to get better. We really need the smartest girl on our team. We really need you back."

"I hope you can hear me, Velma... and even if you can't..." Fred stood up and paced. "And even if you can't, I hope you have some way of knowing that we all care about you. And it isn't even just that you can solve the mysteries. It's because you're there." A tear rolled down his cheek. "It's because you're Velma."

"It's because you're Velma," he repeated as he sat down again. "That's why we need you back. Please, Velma."

-----------------------------------------------

It was Scooby's turn. This was the dog's first visit with his friend since she had been sick again. And now he had to face it, alone, as she lay there.

"Relma..."

Never before had the dog known this kind of sadness. Nor had he felt this kind of fear. The cowardly Great Dane was afraid of many things. But those were mere anxieties that he subconsciously knew were only in his head.

Now there was the reality that his friend might really be... gone.

"Relma... ret well roon. Ri riss roo." _Velma, get well soon. I miss you._

"Re all do..."

Dogs seldom cried. But this one did. He was trying to act very human-like to prove he belonged here. But the urge to howl, and whine, the way any other dog would, was very immense. It wasn't fair.

"Rum back, Relma. Rease." _Come back, Velma. Please._

"Rease, Relma..."

-----------------------------------------------

Shaggy knew it was inevitable. He didn't want to avoid it, either.

He just felt so speechless.

He sort of knew what he wanted to say. Actually, he had lots of ideas of what he wanted to say.

He just didn't have long to say them.

It wasn't fair.

He should have said them a long time ago.

He couldn't say them now.

So... he talked.

"Velms..." he began. He struggled to say anything more.

"I... I guess it didn't work so well, like did it?" He clapped his hand over his mouth, ashamed at his own stupidity. Velma didn't need to hear about that now, did she?

"Well... like don't give up on it. Not yet..."

Everything he could think of sounded cliche.

"Velma, don't go. I don't want you to. I--"

He thought of something.

"Velma... you're the one who made me feel brave. You talked me into everything I always thought I'd be too scared to try. Well... I'm not nearly as good at motivating people. I'm not brave like you are. But Velma? Would... like would it bother you if I tried to talk you into coming back? Because... because... I'm going to. Okay... I guess I can't. I don't even know if you know what I'm saying. But I'll tell you this... even though everyone else probably already said they needed you, I'll..." Shaggy swallowed.

"I need you... more, Velma. In a different way."

Shaggy felt so helpless, so hopeless. He felt a sensation he didn't understand, one he never had before, a sensation that things really would never be the same again if Velma didn't survive.

"Maybe it's just that I'm your donor. But I need you back, Velma... I really do."

Velma said nothing. Of course she wouldn't.

Shaggy prayed that she heard him.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

He still hadn't said it.

He had gone in. He had talked to Velma just like everybody else. He had said his Velma-we-need-you speech.

But he still hadn't said it.

And time was running out.

He still felt the shock from the call he had received. He had been dreaming, serenely tucked away in his tranquil bed, when the phone rang at 1 a.m. He had sat there, numb, as Dr. Georgis had explained Velma's condition, as he explained the prognosis. Words like "life support" and "critical" bounced around meaninglessly as Shaggy pulled on his clothes while holding onto the phone. Shaggy had jumped into his car and sped off, way over the speed limit, but miraculously no police officers were paying attention. The world was asleep as Shaggy whizzed frantically down the road.

Shaggy pushed the word "asleep" out of his head, despising the word's use as a euphemism. The entire world was not asleep; it couldn't be. Across the globe, in China, or New Zealand, or Siberia, people were wide awake, going about their business. People were awake; people were alive; people would be alive...

A bright display window temporarily blinded Shaggy as he rounded a corner. _What kind of place is open at this time of night?_ Shaggy wondered vaguely. At any other time, he might have assumed it was a food place and eagerly pulled over; those days now seemed as foreign as China, or New Zealand, or Siberia.

He caught a glimpse of the store's name before it was too late:

_Joy Welsh, 24-Hour Jeweler._

---------------------------------------------------------

He rushed into Velma's room, not even bothering to deal with that rotten receptionist, just barely taking the time to put on the proper mask and coat as he zoomed down the hall.

Two doctors raced out and parted in opposite directions, the meaningless charts on their clipboards flapping as they ran. Shaggy peered in nervously at the room where only two people remained: Velma, of course, and Dr. Georgis, who simultaneously appeared to be monitoring fifteen different things. Although his back was turned, he still noticed Shaggy.

"Mr. Rogers, I understand--"

"Thanks, but like, I really need to talk to Velma, if that's okay--"

"Look, Mr. Rogers, it is, but I don't want you to have to go through being here if..." His voice trailed off at his lapse in bedside manner.

Shaggy was brave. "Dr. Georgis, I need to talk to her. Now. And if she dies," He swallowed. "If she dies I'd rather be here than leave without saying goodbye!"

Dr. Georgis sighed. "Very well, then."

At that point, Shaggy forgot Dr. Georgis was there. He talked, simply talking.

"Velms," he told her. "Velms, I know you can hear me. And I know you aren't doing so well. And I bet you're afraid; I know I'm terrified.

"But I know we've all said it and I'll say it one last time: You have to pull through, you have to fight this! Velma--" He wiped tears from his eyes. "Velma, there's something I really want to tell you, and I'm mad at myself for not realizing it sooner. But it's been eating at me and if I don't let you know now I won't be able to live with myself. Velma-- I love you!"

Shaggy breathed and leaned back in the chair by Velma's bed, ignoring Dr. Georgis's startled expression completely. "Velma... you know you were more than my partner for mysteries, right? I liked you, I loved you..." Here came the hard part. "And...like instead of being my partner for mysteries... how would you like to be my partner for life? Because I'm sure right now neither of us needs to be reminded that it's really, really short. And I doubt either of us wants to miss it while it's here."

He pulled out the ring. He slipped it on her finger.

"Velma... I wish I could ask you to marry me; I really do. This isn't a wedding ring, or even an engagement ring, unless you want it to be. If you wake up and don't like it, you can take it off and forget the whole thing ever happened. But right now..." He tried to recollect himself. "Right now, all it has to mean is that I love you. That if you die five seconds or fifty years from now, you will die loved, because I will never stop loving you. And I want you to know that."

There.

Velma knew.

Somehow, Shaggy knew she knew.

For three blissful, silent seconds, relief and bliss flooded his veins.

Only three.

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There was that sound.

That sound on Dr. Georgis's monitor.

It was a high-pitched beeping; it may as well have been a low, solemn church bell. At least that's how it felt to Shaggy.

Dr. Georgis pushed a button. Fifteen or so doctors and nurses swarmed in, each with a different piece of alien-looking equipment.

And Shaggy stayed as long as he could amidst the confusion.

"Velma?" he whispered while he still could. "Velma... remember what I told you?"

He was pushed out of the way.

"Velma, does it make a difference knowing that I love you? Will you pull through... now that you know I love you?"

He uttered those last words just before being shoved out the door.

"I love you, Velma. Please wake up.

"Please, Velma."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to write the conclusion! I've had homework like you wouldn't believe... well, here's the end; I hope you like it. Bon voyage!**

Chapter 12:

Shaggy sat by the pond, staring at his reflection.

Beside him was the bush of roses-- orange roses. Orange roses that always reminded him of Velma.

He reflected as the pool reflected.

He reflected on that day, years ago. That day when Dr. Georgis had told him Velma wasn't going to live, that day when Shaggy saw the doctor himself cry. That day when Shaggy had watched as the hospital team had systematically prepared to remove her life support, had lifted the phone to call her parents...

Shaggy shivered at the memory, despite this being a ninety-degree June day. In the middle of this backyard garden of life, he remembered that day when all he could think about were death and sorrow.

"Shaggy? _There _you are!"

Shaggy turned to face the voice, laughed, and scooted over to make room for Velma on the stone bench.

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"Way to sneak up behind me, Velms!"

The brunette simply giggled and hugged Shaggy. Shaggy put his arms around his wife and kissed her.

His wife...

"Five years now." Velma nodded at Shaggy's statement. Five years. To think that for so long the two words were merely synonymous with _cured_. Today, however, they had another meaning. Velma had never thought that when this day finally came, she would almost not remember it because she was celebrating something happier.

"We certainly didn't waste any time, did we?"

It was true. The very day Velma had been pronounced "in remission" had been the day she and Shaggy were married. Now they were celebrating their five-year anniversary.

"I have a present for you," Shaggy told Velma, standing up. He walked over behind the shed, Velma following him curiously.

Her husband pulled out a sapling, still in its little black pot, waiting to be planted. The tree was so young Velma wasn't quite sure, but she thought it looked like a dogwood.

"Oh, right... I get it." Velma kissed Shaggy on the cheek. "Fifth anniversary... that's wood."

"Actually, it's for new life." Shaggy seemed to remember the significance of his wife's being cured better than she did. "You're free, now. You're really alive."

"Jinkies, I was alive as soon as you told me why I should be," Velma whispered, placing her arms on his shoulders. The couple experienced a brief flashback to that day back at the hospital...

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Shaggy sat alone in the waiting room, refusing to leave despite Dr. Georgis's prognosis. He tried to put the ideas together.

_Dead... Velma. _Was she already?

He didn't even notice the six-foot man as he raced into the room.

"Mr. Rogers--"

Now Shaggy noticed but said nothing. He only stared up at the doctor's ruddy face.

The face wasn't crying anymore. The face was... smiling. Almost.

"Mr. Rogers... you should be made aware that Miss Dinkley has awakened."

"Zoinks!" Shaggy yelled the word, probably awakening every last one of the hospital's thousands of patients.

The doctor motioned with his hands for Shaggy to calm down, but he did not comment. Instead, he continued as the two raced down the hall.

"Mr. Rogers, you are a miraculous man. You should have studied medicine."

"Excuse me?" Shaggy didn't fully understand; he was making little effort to process the doctor's story.

"There is no doubt in my mind that it was you whose words gave our patient the will... the will to come back," Dr. Georgis panted.

"How come?" Shaggy hoped he didn't ask too rudely.

"By what she said immediately after waking up."

"What did she say?"

They had reached the room now. Dr. Georgis began to open the door.

"Only one word. But from what you were saying to her I'm positive I know what she meant..."

"What did she say?" Shaggy asked again, slightly annoyed at the suspense.

"She said yes."

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The memory once again passed as the couple finished putting their shovels away after planting the tree next to the rose garden. They washed their hands at the spigot and paused for a minute to admire their work.

Finally Velma spoke. "New life..."

"In ways more than one." Shaggy placed a hand on his wife's stomach. Velma blushed.

"Speaking of which... we should probably get the kids ready, huh?"

Shaggy nodded as they climbed the back steps into the house. Shaggy began brushing the hair of Christina, the four-year-old daughter they had adopted. That was one respect in which Velma now saw the cancer that had tortured herself, her family, and her friends for years as a blessing. Were it not for the fact that Dr. Georgis had explained to the couple that Velma's cancer treatments had impaired her ability to have children, they probably never would have even met this creative girl who now brought so much happiness to their lives.

Velma, meanwhile, went upstairs to awaken two-year-old Derrick from his nap. Derrick, the son who had proven Dr. Georgis wrong. _He's about to be wrong again, _Velma thought with a happy sort of mischief.

Finally, the children were ready to go. The family and Scooby all climbed into the car. They were going to meet Fred, Daphne, and their kids at their all-time favorite haunt, the Malt Shop. Where else? The celebration of not one but two couples' anniversaries called for a place that was very near and dear to everyone involved. That day five years ago, the wedding that joined two couples had sealed the fact that two things truly would last forever: Love and friendship. Velma and Shaggy smiled at each other as Shaggy started the engine.

"Happy anniversary, honey." They kissed once more as Velma fastened her seatbelt. The setting sun spilled through the windshield, glittering merrily on Velma's ring.

The ring she had never taken off her finger.


End file.
